


Of Stone and Stained Glass

by atelierdawnweaver



Series: The Shaw Triptych [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: (But Watch Out), An Inaccurate Internal Description of The Cathedral of Light, Blood and Injury, Edwin is now a skilled cathedral builder too the lore dances to the rhythm of MY fiddle!, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Romantic Monologues, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atelierdawnweaver/pseuds/atelierdawnweaver
Summary: Even spies dream. But a certain spymaster has more nightmares than dreams.(This is also my first, fully finished, non-academic work I've written in English, so please point out any mistake you come across, dear reader.)
Relationships: Mathias Shaw/Edwin VanCleef
Series: The Shaw Triptych [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980940
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Of Stone and Stained Glass

It was nearly sundown, when Edwin VanCleef finished carving keystones for the columnade.

Late spring always had the chance to be as scorching as any summer day in Stormwind, but luckily for him and his men, this day brought a surprisingly pleasant weather with it. The wind blew freely among the cobblestone-lined streets of the Cathedral District and the sun shone brightly enough to hasten the drying of the mortar, but nobody got struck by its rays today.

  
Edwin himself wore a loose-fitting white tunic, with a simple brown tabard over it, along with an old pair of dark linen pants and well-worn leather boots. He aimed to dress as comfortably as he could: there was no need to make his work more tiring than it already was. To stop the grit from blocking his nose, he always wore a red bandana to cover up his mouth and nostrils. The cloth itself was once a blanket, made for him when he was only a newborn, but this little piece of information was only known by two people. The stonemasons were quick to adopt his idea, and had procured red bandanas themselves, made by the local weavers. By now, the citizens could easily spot them by the red cloth they wore around their neck.  
  


One of the two people who knew about that story, was Edwin himself. The other person was on his way to the square, stepping in and out of the shadows, almost as if he was dancing. The main tower of the cathedral would ring its bell once, right at sundown, and that was the time he needed to be there. He wanted to be as punctual as possible, for he hated things that did not go exactly as they were planned. He tossed a stray lock of hair away from his face and continued, covering his face with a dark blue hood.  
Upon crossing the canals, he looked up at the sun.  
  
  
It was large, red, and it looked like it could fall from the sky at any given moment. No late spring sunset should look that alarming, he thought. There was a sense of foreboding in the back of his mind, but nevertheless, he carried on. This night shaped up to be too perfect for him to ruin with nonsensical thoughts.  
Nearly every guild member trusted Edwin, for he was a truly gifted young man, dedicated to his craft. His natural talent for intricate carvings caught the eye of the current leader of the stonemasons, and rumor has it, he could be named as his successor any day now. For he couldn't just breathe life into stone, but he could organise and lead the men around him and he knew every nook and cranny of the capital. Along with his fellow guild member, the architect Baros Alexston, he was thought to be one most capable of restoring Stormwind to its former glory.  
  
  
The conflicts with the Horde have ravaged this once beatiful town inside and out, and it would take much time and an even larger amount of money to rebuild it. No more houses made exclusively out of wood. No more narrow alleyways, crumbling shanties and stables within the city. Alexston's design was much more grandiose: it was shaping up to be perfect, and since the works were already well in motion, the people could see the results from day to day.  
  
  
The young man had arrived just as the bell began to ring. He spotted who he was waiting for right away, but decided not to make himself known just yet. Instead, he stood in the shade, half-hidden, with his hood still on. If he wanted to be more secretive, he could have even worn a small mask that looked as if it was made of gold. It was a gift, from his grandmother, no less. It only covered the upper half of his face and the part that leaned onto the bridge of his nose was shaped like a bird's beak. That of a bird of prey, perhaps, but in his heart, the man preferred to be called by the name of an entirely different sort of bird.   
A red robin.  
  
  
Edwin stretched like a jungle cat of Stranglethorn, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt when he heard the bell. It was time to finish for today so he gestured to his team. They immediately began packing up and moving some stones out of the way. His team would eat at the guild hall together, and Edwin reckoned that the cook said something along the lines of preparing a boar or two, procured from the woodsmen of Elwynn Forest. He however, had slightly different plans for the evening.  
He then tried to wash off today's grit from his hands and face with a wet cloth, with water taken from a nearby barrel. After all, he didn't wish to look like he had been dragged through a quarry. For he had a meeting tonight. One could even call it a date.  
From the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar glimpse of red and blue, standing in the nearby alleyway, half"hidden in the shadows. A smile started blooming on his face as he quickly hurried towards the smaller, lean figure.  
  
  
Their lips met in a heated embrace and Edwin spun his lover a little, just so the heels of his soft, almost soundless leather boots couldn't touch the ground for a quick second or two.  
"I've missed you, Mattie." he said softly, after their lips parted.  
Mathias smiled back at him, but in his usual enigmatic manner:  
"It's barely been a day since we parted."  
"I know. But can't I say I missed you just the same?"  
"Of course you can." said the young spy, resting his head on one of Edwin's broad shoulders. His hood fell down onto his back, revealing short copper hair, which was now a bit tousled. Edwin thought this looks suited him even better than how Mathias usually styled his hair.  
  
  
The soon-to-be leader of the Stormwind Assassin's Guild (although the organisation was in the process of renaming itself to something that sounds subtler and contains less allusions to murder, at least in its name) seemed like a mystery to most. His bottle-green eyes had a piercing gaze, almost as if he could see into the souls of the people he talked to and his face was best referred to as "elegant". His facial hair wasn't all that much at the moment, but a little goatee"like beard grew already on his chin and he was quite adamant about growing an elegant moustache as well from the small strands he already had under his nose. Edwin often jokingly teased him about this goal of his, comparing Mathias' future looks to some "ill-fated, overly serious noble, who always wants to duel", which made the spy smile. And truth to be told, his smiles were almost exclusively for his lover. Not even his grandmother, Pathonia, could receive one.  
  
  
He did not wear gloves this time, and one of his hands was on Edwin's back, embracing him, the other slowly playing with his strands of his shoulder"length dark hair.  
"What were you up to today?" he asked.  
"The usual. My group is tasked with the cathedral."  
"And you seem to have a splendid time working on it."  
"How do you know that?"  
The spy let out a light chuckle.  
"It is my job to know everything that comes and goes within Stormwind. You're no exception either, dear."  
"Oh really?" Edwin pulled Mathias away, but only to kiss him again. "And what does the great spymaster know of my workplace enjoyment?"  
  
  
There seemed to be a light blush on Mathias' face, but he positioned himself in such combination of light and shadow, that it was barely visible:  
"You know well that I don't bear that title."  
"Not yet."  
"Fair enough." Mathias leaned back to the wall, but the gap between the two of them was still quite small. "Fine, I'll tell: I know that you treat your colleagues well and you see the cathedral as a challenge, rather than some divine task. And you love carving gargoyles. Heard that from one of your men in _The Pig and Whistle_ , two days ago."  
  
  
Edwin smiled widely:  
"And he was right, y'know. I just love tinkering with those little fellows. There are plenty of suitable references to find in this world for their looks. Bats, beasts, gnolls,... " there was a mischievous light in his eyes. " you..."  
Before he could even breathe, Mathias lunged at him playfully, but with full force. However, Edwin was ready for retaliation and just grabbed Mathias under his armpits, lifted him up a little and promptly plonked him down, as you would do with a naughty cat, who ultimately means no harm. Then they both erupted in laughter:  
"If I knew you were this mean bastard of a man, I would have never kissed you in the first place. " Mathias said, almost out of breath.  
"Oh _please_ , I kissed _you,_ remember?" Edwin quickly closed the distance between them to stroke the spy's sublime cheekbones with his thumbs. "I thought you would never square up by yourself to do it, but the longing in your eyes was so strong that it gave you away."  
"I will never forget that night." in this moment, Mathias' voice was as soft as silk and sweet as honey.  
"Neither will I."  
  
The stood like that for a time only to be measured in peaceful heartbeats. They pressed their foreheads together, inhaled the scent of the other and just...existed. Existed together.  
  


But then, Mathias felt a chill run down his spine, that stung with an otherwordly sense of...wrongness. And unfamiliarity. As if none of this was real. For he could not smell the scent that was customary to Edwin. He always smelled of fresh wood, apple pies and some simple soap. But this scent was now nowhere. He didn't smell like anything, which the spy found to be rather odd and a tad frightful. However, he quickly shooed this thought away. Here he was, in the arms of the man he loved, and he would go through all hardships for. He was content as he was sappily, unbearably and completely in love.  
  


Then Edwin spoke:  
"I know you had your plans sorted out for tonight, but I really wish to show you something."  
Mathias tilted his head to the right:  
"And what would that be?"  
"Come, you'll see." Edwin took his hand, entwined their fingers together and started walking towards the cathedral.  
"I should have known." Mathias chuckled. "Nowadays all you talk about is the cathedral. Tell me, when did it become this important to you?"  
"You'll know soon enough." Edwin purred, with a hint of mystery that spiked a sense of curiosity and something deeper within the young spy.  
  
  
The Cathedral of Light was a magnificent building to behold, even in its current, fractured state. Some of its smaller towers needed repairs and so did the outer walls, which were now heavily scaffolded. The crypts beneath it stayed miraculously intact, but that could use some work as well. There was always something to do with it, and the Church of the Holy Light was really persisent about getting it quickly into shape. The wars were over for the time being, and now people wanted to return to the life they had: they wanted to marry, hold naming ceremonies, and of course there were paladins to sanctify and priests to train. Life goes on, and the citizens of Stormwind seemed to be most hopeful about it.   
  
  
Mathias knew that Edwin and Alexston were working on it together, regularly discussing matters over their plans. Baros drew them on large sheets of parchment, while Edwin's plans were sketched into the thin layer that covered his workshop's floor. Whenever he had another idea, he would simply apply a newer coat and draw over the old, simple as that may sound.  
They both agreed on making some modifications into the damaged internal structure, with adding new small apses or chapels along the two sides of the nave, each representing a human settlement, so those who visit Stormwind from afar can look upon the likeness of their home, molded into bright stained glass. There was one for Elywnn, Redridge, Arathi, Lordaeron and one for Brightwood, now somberly known as Duskwood. The closest to the two men's hearts however, was the chapel of Westfall. Baros' family used to own a farm there and he loved his ancestral lands dearly. Edwin never really set foot outside the city walls, aside from a few stray trips, but the architect's passionate words with which he spoke of his homeland, enchanted him thoroughly. Mathias did not fail to remark this, but Edwin just smiled fondly at him and confessed to be "an incurable, hopeless romantic".  
  
  
His romantic side seemed to seep into the very fabric that held the Cathedral together. Much of the columns' adornments were his work or planned by him and he never took any job half"seriously or made half the effort to finish it. No, Edwin VanCleef always put heart and soul into whatever he was doing.  
That also extends to the bedroom, thought Mathias, but then reminded himself that they are within sacred ground. Such thoughts are best left to discuss once they are outside. He never truly believed in the omnipotent presence of the Light, but better be safe than have a purification spell casted on him by some overzealous priest initiate.  
He noted that his suspicions were right once again, as they stepped into the Westfall chapel. It was small, in the shape of a half-circle. Upon the high walls were torches casting some rather warm light upon them. On the two sides there were hollows carved into stone, which housed candle-holding metal shelves on each side. The long wax candles stood in neatly kept lines and nearly all of them was alight. Some were actually made of beeswax, so the air was filled with the sweet but subtle scent of honey. The chapel was so silent at this moment, that if one focused enough, the slow, uneven dripping of wax could be heard.  
  
  
"Seems like many visit this chapel." Mathias remarked.  
"Aye, they do." Edwin's voice sounded distant, as if he wasn't actually here right now, but rather up meddling with something in the cathedral attic, up on the scaffoldings or even in the open sky itself, flying among birds.  
"I've noticed that the farmers who come to the weekly market stop here, right after dawn, to light a candle. After that, they rub one of the doorway stones, always the same one, clockwise. I spoke with them a few times: they say this... ritual brings them fortune during the rest of the day. The say, that this way, their sales will be good and their roads safe."  
"And what do you think of it?" asked the spy, as he sat down onto the ledge, which was padded with crimson pillows and stood right in front of the chapel's biggest stained glass window. He looked up to admire the skillful craftmanship when a small detail suddenly caught his eye.  
  


"Wait!" he said abruptly, as Edwin was about to sit down next to him.  
"The glass piece on the left-hand side, the one three pieces below the circular sun-shape doesn't look right."  
Edwin looked to where his finger was pointing and saw it too.  
"Yes, you're right. Must have been applied badly." he said and was about to stand up, but Mathias placed a hand on his wrist.  
"No, let me fix it. It was me, who noticed it."  
"Not a chance." the stonemason smiled. "The cathedral's my responsibility. Besides, a little chivalry's always nice, is it not?" he gently lifted the spy's hand as he stood up and started murmuring as his fingers were tracing the black lines holding the pieces together. Yes, his love truly had a keen eye. There was an unevenly cut piece of amber-coloured glass, which he delicately pushed back into its socket, so that it fit into it like a glove. From the corner of his eye, he felt Mathias stand up as well, probably to help, and this little action was enough to lose his balanced footing just a bit. He let out a small hiss and stepped down, to sit down once again.  
  
  
"What is it?" the spy asked, in a worried tone.  
"Nothing, really." Edwin shrugged, and he held out his right hand. "The edge of the glass cut the tip of my ring finger, here."  
"It's not bleeding."  
"It doesn't." he stared at it, with a bit of a perplexed expression. "Strange. Wounds like this always bleed, even if only a little."  
"Sounds troubling."  
"To you, perhaps, but I don't mind. After all, it's my finger, not yours." Edwin stopped looking at his hand and instead rested it upon Mathias' upper thigh and started tracing meaningless shapes.  
  
  
"You asked me what my thoughts are on superstitions." he said after a brief moment of silence, fingers still drawing. "Well, as I see it, I think small things like this make life a little bit better. Sometimes, I think about it during carving. The people I meet here seem so full of hope, full of plans and dreams, no matter how old they are or how much money's in their pockets. This... candle-business might seem silly to you, but to them, it means so much more. It means a solid start, a regular cornerstone in their life. Go to the market each weekend, visit the chapel, light a candle, rub a stone and go on your way. It is simple, yet it is wonderful. I often catch myself finding ordinary things beautiful. Like the rays of the sun at dawn and at dusk. The way you can smell the sea salt when you walk close to the harbor. The way songbirds build their nest in the spring in the boughs of trees. The way friends wawe at one another when they see each other from across the canals. The way cobblestones feel under your feet when you walk hand in hand with one you love."  
  
Edwin's eyes shone with such as enthusiastic light, Mathias wanted to submerge in them, to get lost forever, never to rise up to the surface again. At moments like this, all of him knew how much he loved him. He wanted to say just that, but instead what he finally said was this:  
"You really are an incurable romantic."  
  
  
Edwin just smiled at him, with such a warm and loving smile that it could melt all the candles in the entire cathedral at once.   
"And it's not silly to me. " Mathias softly continued . "It's true, I myself am not much of a superstitious person, but Pathonia is, so I know them all too well. The red string, black cats, ladders, all of it. I never truly believed in them, but I would never sneer or laugh at those who do. Maybe each of us has a haven inside our heads that can only be strengthtened with these small details. Or maybe not. But this much I know: weathering any storm is easier when you believe in the small tasks of life. "  
"Who's the romantic again?" Edwin chuckled. "I can rarely hear you speak like this. You're always so quiet, except in...some cases." he winked at his lover.   
  
"I simply choose my words carefully."  
"Ah, I see. Parried my compliment, as always. This isn't a knife fight, Mattie." said the stonemason merrily.  
"Everything is a knife fight, if you think about it." Mathias retorted. "The only things that change are the knives' shape."  
"Spoken like a true rogue." Edwin bowed his head, his gaze fixed on the dagger attached to the spy's belt. "Everything, you say? Even the matters of love?" he asked jokingly.  
"Especially those. All we do at night is engage in knife fights."  
  
"But rather pleasant ones, don't you agree?" Edwin shifted an inch closer to Mathias, their noses almost touching. He leant into the kiss, and cupped his face with both hands. It was perfect, nearly divine as they embraced one another in front of the warm colours of the stained glass window. The sun was setting now, weaving everything in a breathtaking combination of yellow, red, orange and the tones of the earth. The window depicted the rolling wheat fields of Westfall, the maidenhair trees by the roads, the largest hill, the lighthouse, the farmsteads that dotted the land like buttons on a woven shirt, and to crown it all, the sun itself was captured rising up above the clocktower of Moonbrook, so that each morning, in one precise moment, the light would shine through that one piece of glass.   
Mathias felt safe in his lover's arms, as the last parting rays of the sun shone on the glass once more, and then dived down into the sea only to rise anew the next day.   
  
  
If he ever got to choose a moment to be captured in a painting, this would be it. 

  
  
"But I didn't bring you here to talk about knife fights and candlelight." Edwin started rummaging the leather satchel he brought with him, until he lifted up a hand"sized stone, carved into a hexagonal shape.  
"Tell me, does this chapel seem finished to you?" he asked.  
Mathias narrowed his eyes:  
"Is this some sort of trick question? Yes, it looks finished to me. The alcoves here have no space to hide properly, I noted no hidden paths and entrances. And while it's easy to stash or hide smaller weapons, I would still deem it safe for an ordinary citizen."  
"Pitch perfect analysis, as usual. " Edwin sighed dramatically. "But you're wrong in one thing. It's not finished. Not yet, until this stone here is put into its place. See the arch of the doorway?" he pointed towards its upper half. "Now look at the keystone. Above that, there's a hexagon"shaped hole. Perfect fit." Lovingly, he held up the stone, as if it was made of thin, translucent glass, and then carefully placed it into Mathias' hands.  
  
  
"I want you to do it. Place it in there. It's not much, but it's a memento. A memory. Of us."  
Mathias looked at the stone that was no larger than his palms combined. Into its surface, Edwin's precise hands carved a single, continous line that was painted blue, blue as the summer sky and within that frame stood two elegant monograms, entwined by their ends:  
M. S. & E. V.  
  


"It's true, the cathedral's my job." Edwin's voice was nothing more than a soft whisper. "But it's not mine to keep for all eternity. It is also for those who seek peace, healing and guidance and those who just wish to calm their racing mind. I cannot cling onto it, like a child clings onto their mother's skirt. This is why I never carve my initials into anything I've ever made. Except this stone here." he pulled Mathias close to him and let the spy rest his head on his broad shoulder. "This is the only mention of me I'm ever gonna put into this place. And I want to share it with you. Just as I want to share the rest of my life."  
  


The young spy didn't know what to say. He was truly at a loss for words, the only thing he could do at the moment is to stare at their entwined initials, as if he fell under some unbreakable spell. So many thoughts flooded into his mind. Thoughts of worry, thoughts of uncertainty, but most of all - thoughts of deep, deep love.   
Edwin's shoulders felt unnaturally cold and he couldn't help but shiver for a brief moment. Yet again, he had to command his thoughts to stop worrying about anything and everything, especially about such small, unimportant details and just let him enjoy something in its entirety, free of worries.  
"Do you have...a ladder?" This was the first thing that left his mouth and by the Light, did he feel stupid because of it. He wanted to say something graceful or loving and yet, here he is. Standing like a fool in a spy's shoes.

  
  
Edwin just snickered a little, but not at all unkindly:  
"I forgot to stuff one into my pocket, but it matters not. Come, I'll lift you up!"  
And so he did. Mathias eased his muscles to free himself from all the reflexes he learned and simply let Edwin lift him up like a ragdoll. After a few moments, he shifted into position by slinging his legs over Edwin's shoulder, and carefully placed the stone into its socket. It truly fit like a glove and he felt an overwhelming sense of pride. A memento, only for the two of them.   
  
  
"Are you gonna sit on my shoulders forever or will you climb down?" Edwin's cheerful question finally reached his ears.  
"No." he said as he rested his chin atop Edwin's dark locks.  
"Then you'll have to pay rent. Carrying you around won't be cheap."  
"But I barely weigh anything to you."  
"Oh it's the emotional burden I need the money for. Constantly hearing about backstabbing and all that shady business won't be pleasant."  
"All right. " Mathias sighed. "Put me down onto the pillow."  
"As you wish." Edwin mimicked a bow, as much as he could with a man in his early twenties sitting on his shoulders.  
They sat down once again, face to face. Mathias looked at their stone, his green eyes reflecting the candlelight.  
"Do you think it will stay there forever?" he asked.  
"I hope so." Edwin smiled. "I will apply a little bit of mortar around it tomorrow, just to be safe. But yes, it should stand the test of time."  
Moments passed in silence, as they looked at each other and wondered how beautiful the other looks in candlelight.  
"I thought about...what you said." Mathias spoke as slowly as if time itself stood still. "All of it. I'm glad I share this life with you, Edwin. And I --"  
  


He cut off the sentence as his eyes caught a horrifying sight. The cut on Edwin's fingertip, made earlier by the stained glass, was moving. A thin, red line, moving down to his palm, and slowly moving downwards. A single, continous line and in its wake, blood was drawn. At first, slowly, then the wound started to open up.  
"What...what is happening?" he heard his lover's anxious voice, his quickened breaths.  
  
  
The line didn't seem to stop. It went from his wrist, to his arm, bleeding through his linen shirt, then moving up towards his collarbones, shoulders, then reached his neck.  
"What have you done?" his dark eyes were now fixed into his own, full of worry and pleading.  
I...I didn't...." he tried to say but the words seemed to be stuck in his mouth and his tongue felt like lead. Was it truly his fault that Edwin cut his finger? He felt confused and that confusion started blooming into panic.  
  
  
"What have you done?! " Edwin was shouting now, as the red line made a full loop around his neck. Dark, crimson streams of blood started pouring from the wound, down to his clothes.  
"Edwin, I -- " he tried it again but to no avail. His mouth betrayed him. He wanted to yell, to scream that he's sorry, he shouldn't have made that mistake. It seemed so unimportant, so insignificant. It was just a cut.  
  
  
He looked down on his hands, hoping in a some last resort, a way to help. But he could no longer recognize them. They were ashen claws, gnarled and beaming with a malicious green light. Fear was rising inside him, like black bile.  
"It's all your fault!" as Edwin spoke, his teeth became red with his own blood and tears started to swell in his eyes. But not tears of pain, or grief.  
Those were tears of rage.  
  


"It's all your fault!" The walls echoed every word, and Mathias heard a low, rumbling sound. He looked around, now in utter panic, and saw a vision born from a nightmare.  
The very walls seemed to weep blood and so did every candle that was still alight. The rumbling came from the window itself, from its very fundament. Then, it shattered to a miriad of pieces, covering them both with shards that gnawed and tore at their skin. The wound on Edwin's neck has deepened, and more of his blood left his body.  
"It's all your fault!" The very core of the cathedral seemed to crumble, to bury them forever and the sky was dotted with millions of small fires. Almost as if they weren't in Stormwind anymore, but rather in a deep, dark mine, full of misery and anguish.  
  
  
"It's all your fault!" Strong, calloused hand grabbed Mathias' arms and in a frenzied desperation, moved up to his neck. He found himself out of breath sooner than he thought he would, but saw the gruesome sight in front of him crystal clear. Edwin's eyes no longer showed love, worry, desperation or pain. It was anger. Visceral, all"consuming hatred.  
  
 _He must have felt like this in his last moments.  
_  
  
"It's all your fault!" screamed the whole world.  
  
  
 _Murderer.  
_  
*  
  
He awoke with a desperate, guttural cry, only to find himself still in his cage. The nights and days were indistinguishable from one another this deep in the dungeons beneath Felsoul Hold. The demons patrolled endlessly, and none of them seemed to be in need of sleep. The occasional ounces of sleep he got were not enough. Far from enough.  
  
  
It's the same each day.   
eAn inquisitor comes as two felguards drag him out from his cage. He gets only so much food as to avoid starving to death. His body is light, almost as if his bones were hollow. Oh, how much he would like to be a bird now, free from these chains, soaring up in the endless sky.  
How long are they keeping him captive? A month? Two? A year? Time is meaningless down here.  
The questions are always the same. And so is the punishment. But he never speaks. Never tells them.  
He would rather die.  
  
  
It's not the time for questions yet. He suspects he still has an hour or two. Sleeping back is futile, as it would only breed more nightmares. Just like the one he just had.   
He remembers it all, in more vivid detail than he would like to. A feeling of anger and guilt begins to pool up inside his chest, like a corrosive ichor, burning him from inside.  
Now nearly every single memory he had of him was tainted. Tainted, irreversibly and forever; either by his own treacherous mind or by the foul machinations of the Legion.  
It's all over. He didn't even know anymore whether any of this ever happened. Some of it might. At least, he hoped so, deep within the boughs of his heart.  
  
  
He felt something wet and salty dripping down from his face. He hadn't cried in years. Didn't even know he still could. Maybe he should have thought of it beforehand, and carve out his tear ducts to spare himself from this hassle. He didn't need tears. Useless, distracting, makes the head ache. Only a bothersome nuisance, a human flaw. The last thing he needs right now. But he couldn't make them stop. Not this time. 

  
Spymaster Mathias Shaw, leader of the SI:7, loyal servant to the crown and the Alliance stared into the nothingness that crept down from the prison walls and from the bars of his cage like a sinister fog that looms over the marshes. His bare, torn flesh was aching, his thoughts were bleak, as if someone took a grey, damp rag of cloth and wiped all the dust in the world with it. There was nothing to warm him. Neither from the outside nor from inside his heart. Not anymore.  
  


  
He never felt more alone.  
  


  
**Epilogue**

  
The Westfall Chapel still stands within The Cathedral of Light. It has fewer visitors than before, but the rays of the sun still shine through the glass just the same. If one has sharp eyes and knows what to look for, can even make out a peculiar stone, just above the inner side of the arch. The two monograms carved into it are still there. Sometimes, a stray candle casts its light upon them.  
  
Mathias Shaw has never visited the chapel again. Not since that day, many years ago, when a messenger arrived with the news:   
_"Edwin VanCleef, leader of the Defias Brotherhood, an outlaw most vile and dangerous, was slain in his lair in the Deadmines by five brave adventurers. His head will be sent to Sentinel Hill as proof, and then brought to Stormwind, to be displayed on a spike, above the main gate."_  
 _"The King's Council still needs to agree to the latter."_ stated the postscript, scribbled hastily onto the bottom of the parchment.  
Shaw didn't attend that meeting.   
  
  
He never visited the chapel again. At least, not physically. Some nights, his dreams pull him back there.   
  
And so do his nightmares.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a semi-big project of mine, called The Shaw Triptych. The first part aims to cover his life to the events in Legion. Sort of. The painting is the base, so I wrote this fic reflecting to that, not the other way around.
> 
> The painting can also be found over on my tumblr, as the pinned post: --> theboldarva.tumblr.com  
> I also have a VanShaw playlist over on Spotify, called "Daggers Drawn" which isn't connected to this fic, it's more of a chronological vibe: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1rH90GtShi3Yn5YYyhCC8g?si=8u1M1gLORzGZp0PGglNwZQ


End file.
